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Posts Tagged ‘restraint’

speak-no-evil_design (1)Gee, and here I thought we’d all been getting along so well. Nutmeg is finally at the beach with iDaddy and me, having arrived with Southpaw and the delicious Peaches two days ago ,and settling in to the two extra bedrooms we have in the front of the house. (This is exactly why we were happy to have been able to buy this house 5 years ago — for long visits from the grandbabies, who at the time were mere figments of my fevered imagination.) It felt like we had already settled into a nice routine, with iDaddy and me leaving them alone for hours on end so they could do whatever child care things they needed to do, waiting for a full hour without complaint so they could prepare for our first foray to the beach yesterday evening, making elaborate (for us) dinners and letting them head straight to bed afterward without cleaning up (even though they offer — they are sweet kids, after all), serving as eager pairs of arms to hold Peaches as she sleeps. We saw that Nutmeg and Southpaw don’t seem to ever put her down into the bassinet during the day but just walk around with her, or sit with her asleep on their chest, so when Peaches fell asleep on my chest yesterday I just sat with her and relaxed into it, for hours, even though I had work to do and even though I had to pee. Later I checked with Nutmeg and Southpaw to be sure that their hesitation to put her down isn’t out of some sort of baby-rearing philosophy, it was simply because they lovedholding her so much — so now I know that in the future if I really feel a need to put her down I can at least do so without feeling like an interfering grandma.

But today, I was made to feel as though I’m being EXPERIENCED as an interfering grandma after all. At lunch time, as they rummaged through the refrigerator, I announced which leftovers I had already pulled out for them to use to make their lunches. I wasn’t fussing around actually MAKING anything for them; I was eating my own leftover tabbouleh at the time. But Nutmeg chose that moment to tell me, supposedly good-humoredly, that I had a window of one more day, after which I was expected to know that they would have as clear a sense of the refrigerator’s inventory as I did.

As I said, it was said in supposed good humor. And I replied in a sort of good-humored way. But what the fuck? Nutmeg is not usually critical of my behavior — unless it’s something that has bugged her a whole lot more than she lets on in her supposedly good-humored comment. And here I’ve been SO restrained, SO careful about not inserting myself into their routine, SO careful not to grab Peaches from them when I feel like holding her. In fact, I’ve been so restrained that a part of me started to fret last night that maybe they worry that I’m not being grandmotherly ENOUGH.

And what I get instead is a snarky comment about my working too hard to make their lives easier by telling them what food I’ve pulled out of the fridge.

Obviously I should just let this one go, right? And be grateful that they’re here and basically glad to be, and that I get to spend a couple of hours a day cuddling an infant who’s quite wonderful to hold. What I should focus on, instead of the “stop telling us where the food is” comment, is Nutmeg’s comment from earlier today, when she marveled at my comfort holding Peaches at the breakfast table on the back porch. “All I could see from inside was you holding the newspaper,” she said. “And you looked so relaxed I was surprised to see you were actually holding a baby, too.”

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